Of Greetings And Goodbyes
by A.V Storm
Summary: Just a collection of my short one-shots and drabbles that I've written about Severus Snape throughout the duration of his life; Marauders Era, Potter era, etc. Lots of angst to be had.
1. I

**Author's Note:**  
Basically I just love Severus Snape, so here are these that were written for my roleplaying site ages ago. You're welcome? 

* * *

"Potter."

A vehement spat from the front of the Potions classroom that sounded nothing short of livid and acidic caused a slight groan to leave Harry Potter's throat as he looked up slowly to meet the face of his greasy haired instructor. As usual, Snape's eyes were glued to his face from where he sat wedged between Ron and Hermione. Quill in hand, the three Gryffindors - as well as the rest of their classmates - were completing an impossible test on based on a three day analysis of the Potions they had brewed over their second term of school. The first had been an essay, which they had been asked to write the day before. And already, Harry could feel his temper rise as he knew what to expect from his _dear_ Potions professor.

"Yes?" Harry answered in a hefty, bored drawl that might have put Malfoy to shame. He observed as the man - sitting in a poise fashion at the front of the classroom, his lip curling at his tone - with a stack of papers bundled up at the corner of his desk.

"Come here." Snape told him. Harry could feel his heart beating painfully inside of his chest, anger welling up within him as he carefully picked up his legs and slid out of his chair. He took his time to straighten out his robes and his round glasses, with full knowledge that at any moment, he might be about to face utter humiliation in front of his classmates. That was, after all, what his professor excelled best at. That and forgetting basic human hygiene, of course.

Curving around the table where he left his two best friends, Harry was precise in his movement as he strode in front of Professor Snape's desk and felt his eyes boring into the black pair in front of him. Over the years, he had analyzed the onyx orbs that belonged to the man, and from what he could tell - just after one single growing second - was that the man was amused. Anger rippling under his veins, Harry shook his hair out of his eyes and spoke. "What do you need, professor?"

Anyone would have able to spy the smirk that flitted across Snape's thin lips from a mile away as his black eyes momentarily scanned a long piece of parchment in front of him. Harry's heart dropped into his stomach as he recognized the writing on the parchment to be his own, feeling his fingers shake slightly as Snape's pallid hand reached out to hand it to him.

"I believe this is yours, is it not?" Snape asked in a smooth voice like honey. However, Harry knew not to trust _that_ tone; not on his life. "Such untidy scrawl, it was difficult to decipher... However, before I've given it its full marks to degrade its abhorrent quality at best, would you mind reading this section that you wrote to the class?"

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing as the professor took one scrawny forefinger to point out a paragraph that he had written the day before on Blood-Replenishing Potion, having the deliberate nerve to force him to read his work to his classmates. His green eyes shot up angrily. "Why don't you do it?" The Gryffindor boy murmured coolly. "You're much better at humiliating me in public than I am by _far_, professor."

Evidently, that wasn't a very wise thing to say, because as soon as the words were said, every pair of eyes in the room were shooting up to stare at them. However, this did not discourage Harry as he stared at the black eyes across from him that began to scorch in rage. Just as satisfaction began to fill him, the corners of Snape's lips curled. Snape stood up - several inches taller than Harry - his gaze hardening with a smooth smile resting on his mouth.

"Oh, I assure you, Mister Potter... You are much more skilled in that area of expertise than anyone else in this room is." Snape whispered, uneven teeth beginning to show as they grit together. "But I'm sure that's something that you're accustomed to hearing. So why don't you sit down and quit drawing attention to yourself...? I hardly think that our _darling _class celebrity should spent any more of his precious time in the limelight, don't you? Lest he lose anymore points for Gryffindor, which..." Professor Snape paused, mouth twitching into a grin. "I assure you, I would be more than willing to allow."

Blood pounding in his veins, Harry Potter could only stand, staring into the cold black eyes that peered down at him. It took all of his mental strength not to try and fight back, as he instead turned around hard on his heel and made his way back to the chair between his friends. They both offered him looks of condolences. However, even when Ron looked angry yet sympathetic, Hermione's expression read, _"don't say anything else, Harry."_

And, for the next ten minutes, the boy who lived was forced to listen as his professor picked his essay apart bit by bit; further embarrassing him and docking several points from Gryffindor. All that Harry could do in that moment was to sit back and list all of the reasons one by one that he hated Severus Snape; his malicious black eyes being one of them.


	2. II

"I already told ya, Eileen! Ain't none of your bloody business what I spend my time doing after work, so quit askin'!"

"It _is_ my business, Tobias! You're my husband and it's after midnight, you should have been home three hours ago!"

"Stay out of it, I can go where I damn well please whenever I want - understand, woman?!"

"So what am I supposed to do, stay up late and worry about where you are?! What might have happened to you?! Wondering if you're going to get home safely or not?!"

"Oi, don't go pretendin' that's what you care about! Get the hell away from me, I'm warnin' you, come any closer and I'll knock you facedown shitless!"

Arguments between Tobias and Eileen Snape were no rare occurrence in the household at Spinner's End. In fact, they were so frequent that Severus Snape - their only son and child - could only sharply exhale, attempting to drown them out behind his book. Lying on his twin-sized, messy bed, with a book on magical fierce creatures propped up against his knees, the lurpy and pallid thirteen-year-old boy found himself repeatedly wishing that he hadn't come home for the summer holiday. Hogwarts was like a breath of fresh air every year that he was gone, and now that he was back home again... He felt his agony return as his black eyes narrowed against the faded black print in front of him.

Despite how much he repeatedly wished that his father would simply retire to his bedroom and slam the door behind him as he went, he knew it was only a wishful thought as his parents' yelling increased. Blood beginning to pound in his veins, Severus attempted to shift himself over onto his side. Ergo, that didn't last long, before he overheard the sickening thud of flesh against flesh, bone against bone... With the sound of something very heavy slamming against one of the walls downstairs. Although normally someone who could keep his emotions in check, the Slytherin boy found himself on his feet at once. Heart beating frantically in his chest, he hastily walked down the stairwell and into the front room of the Snape household.

The sight that overcame his vision at once made his throat tighten painfully, observing the scene of his tall father pressing his mother up hard against a wall by her shoulders. Luckily, she wasn't bleeding, but she didn't look fully oriented either. A reddish tint had formed underneath her eye, as if beginning to formulate a future bruise from where his father had hit her. On impulse - and perhaps, because he had grown so accustomed to attempting to defend himself against James Potter and his mates in school - Severus reached for the wand that was usually held in his right pocket. But, of course, it was nowhere to be found. His father had confiscated the wand the day that he had returned home, and he couldn't be expected to have it back until September 1st.

Clenching his jaw, Severus slowly looked up to see that his father was looking at him. A solemn frown flexed across his face, tilting his head slightly. "What d'you want, boy?" Tobias growled, fingers jutting farther into his wife's shoulder blades. "Can't y'see I'm busy?"

The strong, unappealing stench of cheap whiskey and rum wafted through the room. Not an uncommon scent that followed his father everywhere he went; marking him as an alcoholic. Eyes averting slightly, Severus' gaze narrowed as he picked up his shoulders in an attempt to fix his slouch. He was nowhere near as tall as his father was yet, but that didn't make him falter. Not too much, anyway.

"Let her go." Severus answered, barely choking the words out. As soon as they were said, however, his eyes jumped to find his mother turning her head to look at him. She was barely squinting, but Severus knew that look by heart after the years of abuse that she had served by being with his father, complimented by the shake of her head: _"Don't do anything, Severus."_ The expression alone made his willpower and the inexplicable desire to stop his father fade slightly, as his chin fell as he looked away.

"Oi, I don't take orders from her and I don't take orders from you, either!" His father shouted, dropping one strong, veiny arm down to his side while the other kept his mother pressed in place. "Now, either you stand still or I give you a beating yourself; understand, _Severus?" _His father spat his name out like it was a bad taste in his mouth, before shaking his head and turning back towards his wife.

Severus vowed at that moment that it would be the very last time in his life where he stood, standing as still as a statue - petrified by the horrific scene before him - unable to stop his father from beating on his wife simply because he wanted to.


End file.
